


Blood, Sex and Coin

by A_Delicious_Torment



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Delicious_Torment/pseuds/A_Delicious_Torment
Summary: Elora Lavellan hasn't been following the highest moral code, and where has it gotten her... well worshiped actually.
Relationships: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Female Lavellan, Female Lavellan/Sera, Female Lavellan/Solas, Male Hawke/Female Lavellan, Zevran Arainai/Female Lavellan
Kudos: 3





	Blood, Sex and Coin

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the story of my Lavellan Inquisitor, through trial and tribulations. This is also my attempt to create an antiherorine... for the first time ever. The story line takes place right before the Temple of Mythal but a lot of it will be flashbacks from Elora's perspective. Also, may not be super on canon, so if that's your thing... probably skip this one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SNEAK PEAK! This is the first part of my all new story! I will update it slowly, as I want to focus on finishing my other work: In the Eye of the Beholder.  
> Meet Elora Lavellan

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/181858508@N06/48729799051/in/dateposted-public/)

* * *

My body slipped into a calm but euphoric state, as I poised myself for the final strike. The world around me faded away, all I saw was my mark, all I felt were my daggers, held firm in my hands. One more step One deep breath The world moved by as if in slow motion, as I jumped free of the ledge I perched upon. Silently, my daggers met their mark, one at the base of the skull and one where spine meets hips. The man crumpled to the ground, death was instant, and my job was done. Wiping my blades on the man’s shirt, I sheathed them and leap back to the ledge above me, where my mentor and lover awaited.

He leant against the side of the building, invisible to those who didn’t know he was there. He clapped his hands together in a languid motion, “Well done my dear” he purred. In an instant he had me held tightly between his chest and the wall, his silver hair tickling the skin on my arm, his breath hot against my ear,

“Tell me, Elora, how does it feel sliding your slender daggers through flesh and bone, the warmth of another’s life essence running through your delicate fingers?” he had my hand against his lips, flicking his tongue out to lick the dried blood from them.

He ground his hardness against my ass, an animalistic growl rumbling in his chest.

“I can tell how it makes you feel, Hahren,” I replied keeping my voice low and emphasizing the last word. He growled out loud this time, flipping me to face him, “Now, now, you know how I feel about you calling me that,” his said, desire heavy in his Antivan accent.

“I know it turns you on,” I said leaning in, so my mouth hovered just above his, “Hahren.”

I heard the slight sound of metal as he withdrew his dagger from the small of his back, then cool air against my feverish skin as he used it to slice my leather breeches, exposing me to his hard cock and exploring fingers. He lifted me up, legs around his slender hips, “You like it when I’m like this?” he asked holding his shaft in his hand before he smacked it against my cunt, “you’re a naughty little thing.”

“Just the way you like it,” I replied but lost focus as he smacked me again, rubbing the tip of himself against my clit, “Yes I like it very much.” He readjusted, angling himself just the right way and plunged himself inside, as deep as he could go. My head fell back, hitting the wall behind me, “Don’t hurt yourself,” he cooed, placing one of his hands between my head and the wall, his longer fingers tangling in my champagne colored, waves.

We moved together, slowly, stretching out each thrust and each touch as long as possible. I came to the edge over and over again, but he’d always change pace or the angle, anything to stop me from falling over, anything to keep me right there, so close. My movements became desperate, the tiny range of motion I had trapped between the wall and his lean, strong body, just not enough. His rich chuckle filled the air, smooth and velvety, like the finest shem chocolate.

“Patience my dear,” he said, silver eyes brilliant against his dark skin, looked into mine, “just let the pleasure take over, you don’t need to be in control, ecstasy is your master.” I closed my eyes, releasing all tension and focused on the sensation of his fingers and cock. The sound of his moaning, quiet but intoxicating. His grip tightened in my hair as he came closer to his climax, he stopped holding mine at bay and together we plunged into wave after wave of pleasure.

Shuffling below us indicated that the body of the assassin had been found. That’s perfect, we wanted them to find him. Zevran’s offer to assist the Inquisition with a certain Crow on our scent, was a pleasant surprise to the drabness of my role as Inquisitor. Although the Commander attempted to steer us toward more legal means, Leliana was right there with me. I insisted on coming along, for old times sake. When the Dalish abandoned me all those years ago, Zev was the one who found me. Hiding in a slavers den, broken, scared and alone, on the Wounded Coast.

We traveled together for a number of years, taking on contacts as we pleased. It was a seductive life, full of blood, sex, freedom and money, everything a girl could want. Zevran taught me to be an artist, at killing and love making. We wandered Thedas at our own pace, never hurting for anything and never with a destination, outside of our contracts. As he’d say, “Planning has never been my strong suit. Killing, love-making and witty retorts. Those I am better at.”

But assassins are a solitary animal by nature, in the end, as much as we enjoyed our time together, we went separate ways. Today however, we observed, safely covered by a comfortable blanket of stealth, the people try to figure out who assassinated their assassin. It was humorous, listening to them debate the dissonance between the Crows’ reputation and their performance. Probably funnier for Zev than I, but funny, nonetheless.


End file.
